Part 31 (1/2)
”Oh, you did!”--a wry smile flickered on her father's lips. ”A week ago, eh? And what does Jean say?”
”Jean doesn't say anything,” replied Myrna complacently. ”He doesn't know anything about it--it wasn't necessary until the time came. I haven't said anything to any one--until now.”
”Well, upon my soul!” exclaimed her father. ”You are beginning early with your future husband, Myrna! So then, we are both to be twisted around your finger--eh? I shall have to speak to Jean--warn him. For myself, of course, it's quite hopeless, I've given it up years ago; but as for Jean, that's quite another matter--it's all in starting right, with a firm hand, you know!” His eyes twinkled. ”I'll have a little confidential talk with Jean.”
”Don't be ridiculous, father!” she laughed. She rose from her chair.
”Well, that's settled; and now I--”
”Eh--what? Settled! Nothing is settled! What's settled?” he spluttered anxiously.
”That we are going to America, of course,” said Myrna sweetly. ”You, and Jean, and I.”
”Now, see here, Myrna,” protested her father, with what he meant for severity, ”a trip to America is all very well, but it isn't the sort of thing one decides on the spur of the moment.”
”Of course it isn't!”--Myrna's eyebrows went up archly. ”Didn't I tell you that I have been arranging it for a whole week? I was only waiting for cable replies to some of my letters before speaking to you, and--”
”And of course as you have not overlooked minor details, I suppose we sail sometime next week!” her father interrupted with mild sarcasm.
”No,” said Myrna placidly. ”From Havre, the day after to-morrow, by the _Lorraine_.”
Henry Bliss sat down weakly in a chair. He removed his cigar from his lips, and made one or two helpless pa.s.ses with it in the air.
”Impossible!” he finally exploded. ”Absolutely impossible! Utterly out of the question!”
”I don't see why,” observed Myrna, quite undisturbed.
”You don't see why? No, of course, you don't see why”--Henry Bliss was still waving his cigar. ”Well, I can't run away at a moment's notice, can I? Good heavens! The day after to-morrow! There's a thousand and one affairs that would have to be attended to before I could even think of it!”
”Which, of course, isn't true at all”--Myrna's laugh rippled merrily through the room. ”There are perhaps a dozen social engagements, and two or three other affairs for which you will have to send 'regrets,'
and”--she perched herself cosily on the arm of her father's chair--”and your secretary will do that for you. In fact, I told him he was to do it to-morrow morning.”
”You--_what_? Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!” gasped Henry Bliss.
”Father!”
”Well, it was excusable!” muttered Henry Bliss. ”I--I am half inclined to repeat it.”
Myrna's arm slipped around her father's neck. He was quite manageable, of course--but still he had to be managed. For, if what had come within so narrow a margin of being a tragedy with a fatal ending had forced her hand and forced the inevitable, as it were, upon her, she could at least see to it that the adjustment of the new order of things was of her own arranging. It was inevitable that she would marry Jean, she had decided that long ago; it was only the ”day” itself which, until all this had introduced a new factor into her plans, had been at all vague in her mind. But with Paul Valmain eliminated, and her quarrel with Jean made up as he had lain there dangerously hurt that night of the duel, everything had taken on a totally different aspect.
Perhaps she had yielded a little weakly under sick-bed influences, but however that might be, she was now Jean's fiancee, though it was not publicly announced; as, coming upon the heels of Jean's mysterious accident and Paul Valmain's sudden departure from Paris, it would to a certainty have caused talk and gossip, which for very good reasons she was most anxious to avoid; for, a wheel within a wheel, if talk went too far the truth might come out, and the truth at all hazards was the one thing that Jean must not know. This was one reason why, almost from the moment that she had grasped the situation that night in Jean's studio, she had determined to get Jean away from Paris the instant he was able to go. But there was a still stronger and more potent reason.
The marriage of Jean Laparde, the world-famous sculptor, and Myrna Bliss, heiress to millions, a society leader in both Paris and New York, was not an affair to be consummated in a moment, nor to have its preparations go unmarked. It would be the most brilliant function that society had ever known on either side of the water--to that she had quite definitely made up her mind! But all that would take time; and meanwhile, more to be feared than any talk, was the possibility of Jean seeing Marie-Louise--and the possibility, or rather, perhaps, the opportunity that would be afforded to Marie-Louise herself, whom she, Myrna, was by no means inclined to trust! She was quite convinced that Jean had not seen the girl since he had left Bernay-sur-Mer, that to a certain extent the girl had told the truth, but that made it all the more imperative that he should not see her now; for if, though unconsciously so, Marie-Louise was so intimate a part of his life that the girl took form constantly in his work, it would be, to put it mildly, just as well if they did not meet--until after Jean was married. After that--well, after that, she was quite capable of looking after a _husband_! In the meantime she would take good care that the possibility of such a contretemps was entirely obviated by going to America, spending the few months necessary for the marriage preparations there, months in which Jean would be the recipient of even greater honours than Paris had accorded him, be married, and--well, that was all! It was very simple! What this impertinent little peasant girl had attempted once, even if Father Anton did intend to take her back to Bernay-sur-Mer, she was quite capable of attempting again--if she had the chance!
Myrna nestled her arm snugly around her father's neck, and held up two daintily extended fingers before his eyes.
”Now, listen, father,” she said, puckering up her forehead prettily.
”Now I am going to be very serious. There are two very good reasons why we will go. First, now that Jean is able to be up again, a sea trip is the one thing above all others that he needs. Doctor Maurier prescribes it.”
”Insists on it, I suppose!” observed Henry Bliss dryly.
”He will,” said Myrna, laughing, ”if I ask him to.”